


pick a star on the dark horizon

by orphan_account



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Gen, awwww bby francis trying not to love mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1875504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It started out as a feeling/Which then grew into a hope/Which then turned into a quiet thought/Which then turned into a quiet word/And then that word grew louder and louder" - The Call, Regina Spektor</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>the one where Bash and Francis discuss Mary. Set between 1x01 and 1x02.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pick a star on the dark horizon

**Author's Note:**

> i've been meaning to publish this for a while (too long actually). i think i wrote it some time around episode six came out? i don't know, either way, i finally finished it up so here you go.

Bash finds him in his sword's room, bent over the table and concentrating intently at the dagger on the table. Francis doesn't even glance up from his work as Bash swaggers in, casually throwing an apple in the air.

“I heard you sent Natalia away from your rooms,” Bash says as he approaches the table. Francis’s eyes flicker up from the dagger he's working on.

“I did,” he replies warily, looking back down.

“Why?” Bash pushes and Francis sighs, looking up once more and putting down the dagger.

“Why do you think?” Francis says in a tone that tells Bash he has no interest in knowing what Bash thinks. 

“Because Mary’s here now? Because now your betrothed is here, you’ve decided to be faithful? Because Mary is pretty and you are young? Because you used to play together? Because you have no use for Natalia anymore?”

“Use?” Francis scoffs.

“You know what I mean, brother." Bash rolls his eyes and hopes Francis doesn't go off on one of his lectures. 

“I don’t think you know what I mean, though,” says Francis and Bash frowns. “Yes, me sending Natalia away did have to do with Mary.”

“So you’re as good as married now, then.”

“Not exactly.”

“Dear lord, Francis, make up your mind!”

“I’m _trying_!” he snaps. “It isn’t easy, you know!”

“Please, you have half of French court kissing your arse and two lovely girls at your beck and call.”

“Oh yes, it’s so nice having people like you only because you’ll be king one day. I just _love_ that girls throw themselves at me because they want to be my future mistress. It’s oh so nice falling for someone when you know you can’t be with them. I just _love_ having Mary here, such a pleasant reminder of what I can and cannot have!”

“Francis,” Bash says slowly, “What do you mean?”

“She’s…different,” Francis says, shrugging as he tries to remain indifferent.

“Different?” It’s hard for Bash to keep the biting tone out of his words as he raises an eyebrow.

“Mary,” Francis replies and it's like he’s releasing a weight off his chest, “Is exactly the way she was when we were young. She understands me like no other. When she came to my sword room, we talked and it was…I don’t know, I just—I cannot fall for her, I can’t let myself. I cannot do that to France. Surely you understand that?”

Bash nods and pretends the nod is an honest one, though he is lying a bit when he does so. No, he does not understand it because he will never understand it. France is always in the forefront of Francis’s mind, always in his best interests, no matter what. Bash doesn’t understand why this girl changes that. He knows his brother well. He knows he is logical and cares deeply (too deeply) for his family. He knows he does not do things without thinking through them. But this, this is different. A Francis that talks to girls in his secret rooms is not the Francis Bash grew up with.

And then Bash remembers. He remembers their childhood—Francis the ever-serious child, rarely showing emotion because that is what he was taught. Except that when Francis was six, and Bash eleven, something (someone) changed. Bash knew that Francis was to be married to a queen. He knew his brother’s future just as well as he did not know his own. Everyone knew that it was imperative that the young queen and dauphin get along. So it was with expectation that Bash was shuffled away from his brother, pulled away from the two new friends as they bonded. It didn’t mean he couldn’t watch them though. And watch he did. Watch as the girl thawed him, turning him into an actual child and giving him what he deserved. Watch as they learned to ride together, to speak Latin together, read Virgil together.

That is the Francis Bash sees before him. Francis, who is looking expectantly at him. Francis, whose worry knots his eyebrows. Francis, who has already fallen for someone he doesn’t want to fall for. Francis, who always feels too much or too little. Bash thinks there is no middle ground in Francis. He is either utterly devoted to his country, like their father, or his is completely gravitating towards the one person who could ruin everything. He says this and Francis looks startled.

“I’m not falling for her!” he says indignantly and Bash nearly wants to laugh.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Francis. When was the last time you came to me worrying about a girl?” he says. Francis swallows hard, avoiding his brother’s gaze as Bash continues. “That’s right, never. When was the last time someone other than me knew about your swords? When was the last time sent away someone like Natalia? When was the last time you were well and truly didn’t know how you felt about a girl? These things have never happened, Francis. You’re right. Mary is different and you have to be careful.”

“I can’t put her before France. I won't,” he says stubbornly and Bash resists the urge to laugh once more.

“I think,” Bash says slowly and carefully, “You’ve already started to.”

Francis sighs, pursing his lips and gritting his teeth.

“Bash, I—“ he starts, “You can’t let me do this. I have to think of France, of being king. Don’t let me fall for her.”

“Since when has anyone stopped you from doing anything?”

“Bash, _please,_ ” implores Francis. Bash sighs and looks up The look in his brother's eyes makes him hesitate. He can see Francis chewing on his lip and he can see the worry in his eyes. It’s that moment that Bash realizes Francis is too far gone to help. The mere fact that he has to try not to like this girl tells Bash that no matter what he agrees to do for Francis will not accomplish anything. He barely knows this girl but she’s hurtled into their lives so quickly that there’s no going back.


End file.
